


Hanging

by LittleSpider



Category: Avengers, Black Widow - Fandom, Clintasha - Fandom, Hawkeye - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, Fetish, Finger Fucking, Kink, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Shameless Smut, Stockings, fluff at the end, nail polish fetish implied, naked barton, red lace panties, shooting glove fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpider/pseuds/LittleSpider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint calls Natasha while she is on a mission in Tokyo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanging

“Moshi Moshi?”

“…Hey Nat…”

“…Clint. You shouldn’t be calling!” the tone was scornful.

“Relax. If I know you, you’ve already checked the line and you’ve made it untrappable.”

“Doesn’t mean that you can just call me, mid-mission.” she replied, the tone less scandalized.

“It’s 7 pm over there in Tokyo. Your boss is home by now and so are you.” he grinned.

“Which means its 5am where you are Clint. What the hell are you doing up at 5am?”

“Thinkin’ of you.”

“…You’re too much.” The tone was teasing, pleased, but demure.

“And you’re too sexy. What’cha doin’?” he asked.

“Exactly what American Secretaries do all day, painting my nails and chewing gum. Gotta do the part if I want Mr. Hamasaki to buy my act.”

“What color?” he asked.

“Red.” she purred.

“Sounds sexy.” He grinned.

“It is. So is the balconette bra, the shirt skirt and the see through blouse. All I need him to do is get him into the right ‘shameful act’ and I’ll be able to extract Intel.”

“Wow. So you’re the honey in the bait again?” he said breezily.

“I’m the honey and the bee. I don’t expect anyone to do my dirty work for me. Good thing about being a CEO of a big company, you don’t want to be caught up in a Scandal with a slutty little American Secretary. What are you doing?”

“…want be tell you the truth or give you a lie?” The response was guarded.

“Both.”she smiled.

“Well, I’m sat here watchin’ the game with a beer.”

“Oh really? What team?”

“…wildcats?”

“And now the truth?”

“I’m sat here on the couch, butt naked, strokin’ my cock, thinkin’ of you in that bra…”

“Really now…” she teased.

“Hmmm.” he retorted, rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock.

“Now that does sound much more appealing than sat here painting my nails…” she responded.

“Does it now?” It was his turn to tease.

“Yeah. I think I’d rather be there with you. Watching your hand move up and down your cock. Watching it twitch, and strain against your hand.”

“…God Tasha.” he groaned softly.

There was a muffled sound.

“What are you doin’?” he asked, sitting up slightly, worried she’d been compromised.

“I’m sliding my panties off.”

“Fuck…what color are they?”

“Red…”

“Fuck. Tell me what you’re wearin’ right now.”

“I’m wearing my short skirt…and I’ve pulled it right up to my waist, and my stockings…”

“God…what are you gonna do…”

“Make you cum, by the sounds of it…”

Clint repressed a laugh that was more of a growl.

“…Tasha…”

“…I’m gonna do whatever you tell me to…”

“…I…me?”

“Yup. Come on, stud. You’re in control.”

“…fuckin’, 6,730 miles away and you finally let me take control of that body…”

Natasha had the nerve to laugh.

“Alright…I want you to part your pussy lips, and stroke your clit slowly…fucking really slowly…”

There was a groan of arousal from Natasha followed by a soft gasp of enjoyment.

“…what does it feel like?”

“Feels good.”

“No…tell me what it FEELS like?”

“…you want me to tell you that my pussy lips are slick and hot? That my clit is bulging against my finger. That I’m throbbing for your cock?”

Clint gave a groan as the phone’s earpiece brushing against his shoulder.

“Direct me…”

“…I want you to reach into your bra, pull out your fuckin’ gorgeous tits and squeeze your nipple while you’re playin’ with your clit.”

Clint heard her phone go to hear shoulder and the brushing of fabric followed by a soft groan of enjoyment.

“…you wet, baby?” he asked.

“…so wet Clint. I want your cock.”

“Oh God…”

“…tell me what you’re doing…” she asked.

“…I’m fucking jerking my cock for you.”

“Wait.”

“…huh?”

“…do you have your shooting glove to hand?”

Clint looked across the apartment and saw it draped over his quiver.

“…yeah.”

“Put it on.”

“…my shootin’ glove.”

“Please.”

Clint felt reluctant to go get it especially as it would mean having to stop but he was curious to know what Natasha had in mind.

He got up, walking with great difficulty to his quiver and picked up the shooting glove, he slid it on, securing it at the wrist and went back to his phone.

“…Okay babe. It’s on.”

“Jerk off with it on…”

This was a fetish Clint never knew she had. His glove? Of all things!?

He started to jerk off with it. The leather bumping uncomfortably against his skin, not very pliant for masturbation but Natasha’s groans were becoming for frequent.

“Baby. Slide a finger inside for me. Tell me how hot and wet it is.”

Natasha gave an excitable groan.

“Tell me…” he began, jerking a little faster.

“…hot…wet…so tight…” she murmured.

“…Finger yourself for me Tasha. Finger yourself. Pretend it’s me, and my glove…”

Natasha did not need a second prompting.

The groaning from the other end of the line was enough to show that she was fucking herself with her fingers. Clint could practically see her fingers working inside, one hand frantically rubbing at her clit while the other thrusted in and out of her tight, wet cunt.

A dribble of cum came out of the tip of his cock as he worked it. He stroked the tip of it clean and stroked his cock more urgently. It wasn’t gonna be long, she was moaning and groaning and he could hear how wet she had become. It wasn’t gonna be long at all.

“You gonna cum for me Tasha? You gonna cum hard for me…God…I wish I was there…I’d…I’d…I’d put my face straight in that fuckin’ gorgeous cunt of yours and lick you over the edge. Imagine…havin’ you cum on my face…”

She cried out over the phone and Clint knew she’d climaxed. She groaned her way through her final few waves until she made a dazed groan on the other end of the line.

He was barely holding on.

“…better?” he asked, straining to not imagine her lying there, her thighs wet with her orgasm, her fingers sticky, her breasts spilling over that red lacy bra.

“I’d be better if your cock was inside me, Clint. Fuck me…fuck me over the phone, let me hear you fuck me…”

Clint didn’t need a second order.

He pulled hard, and fast on his cock. The glove now finding a smoother glide on it as he closed his eyes, hearing her fast breathing over the phone, using her soft instructions as his guide.

“Fuck me hard Clint. I want bruises…I want you to make me ache…”

It took embarrassingly little more to make him cum.

With a shout that strangled off at the end, he shot his load all over his stomach, all over his glove and the couch, rubbing his cum into his cock with the glove he lay back, panting.

“…feel better?” she asked, her voice drenched in post-climax sex.

“…so much better.”

“When I get home. Take me to a hotel, any hotel and fuck me?”

“You got it. Don’t work too hard, Romanoff…”

“Love you.”

_“Watashi wa, anata o aishiteimasu…”_

“Same.”

She chuckled.

“Good morning Barton…”

“Good night, Red.”


End file.
